


Dumb Ways to Die

by cashflochlo



Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Real Person Fiction, Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Friendship/Love, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Near Death Experiences, traumatic events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:40:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cashflochlo/pseuds/cashflochlo
Summary: AU where at the end of one’s life, they get to see the top five moments they almost died.orGeorge almost dies five times and harbors different regrets in each instance.(Plus lots of love confessions and resolved emotional tension.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), dreamnotfound - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Dumb Ways to Die

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for checking this out, I had a lot of fun writing this. I came up with this idea and I thought it would be pretty interesting to write! The chapters will not be in order of most deadly scenarios, instead, just whatever adds the most to the plot.   
> Please be cautious reading this and check tags as I update! There will be a lot of violence and heavy shit in this fic.   
> I love you! Enjoy <3

George’s clammy hands are stuck to the armrest of the airplane seat in a tight grip. His eyes screwed shut tightly, as if his effort to shut the world out will eradicate it completely. This is the reality he had imagined a hundred times over, but was practically certain would never eventuate. He never imagined the helplessness, the regret, and the boiling hot anger.

A seemingly gentle buzz of an intercom breeches George’s head, “Attention passengers, the pilot is searching for a break to land the plane. Please stay seated, buckled, and remain calm.” The voice sounds anything but calm and the pressure on his head intensifies with each word. He knew it was all a lie, how can a pilot possibly safely land a plane in the dead center of the Atlantic Ocean?

His hands press tighter into the armrest and a breathy, nervous laugh bubbles from his lips. The plane jolts to the left, whipping his head awkwardly to the side. He can hear a child crying and worried murmurs inside the body of the plane.

“Fuck you, Dream. Fuck you. Fuck  _ you.”  _

He feels a cool, single tear roll down his cheek, but his hands can’t move from their fixed grip on the seat to wipe it away. 

-=+=-

“ _ Georgeee,” Dream drawls, for about the fifth time that day. _

_ “What, Dream? I know what you’re about to ask.” He fiddles with the cord of his headset. _

_ Dream has been asking the same question for months; a question often deflected or ignored. _

_ He can imagine Dream’s face-- or what he pictures his face to look like --set in a solid frown. “Why won’t you visit me? I don’t understand why you don’t want to meet me.”  _

_ George doesn’t have an acceptable answer. He could blame it on nerves or his fear of flying. Or maybe his busy schedule. But truly, he knows that none of that is the reason. _

_ “I don’t know…” George mumbles and bites on the aglet of his hoodie string. “I mean, of course I want to meet you.” _

_ He hears Dream sigh and the creak of his desk chair. They don’t talk for a moment. _

_ “Why are you so scared? You obviously have some kind of reservation that you aren’t telling me about. I’m  _ **_so_ ** _ tired of listening to your bullshit excuses, because I know you could make the time for me, if you tried. But, if you simply don’t want to visit. Just. Tell. Me.” Dream has never raised his voice like this before. Not outside of a stream, a recording, or a toxic bedwars match.  _

_ “I do want to visit you, Dream,” his voice quivers a little, “I do. I mean it. Just.. give me the dates and I’ll fly out. I’ll go.” _

_ “You’re only saying that because I’m mad.” His tone wasn’t any duller than the sharp, fiendish words from a moment earlier. _

_ “What? Do you want me to not visit you then?” George’s throat feels tight and burning. _

_ “Oh come on, George!” Dream’s yell is rude and brassy. “You are doing this on purpose.” _

_ “Doing  _ **_what_ ** _ , Dream?” George exasperates. _

_ “Don’t fucking play dumb with me now.”  _

_ He can’t deny that he knows what he wants to hear. He wants a real explanation; he deserves one. Despite that, George doesn’t know if he can bear to give one. _

_ “I’m going to hang up. I’ll fly out if you want, but I don’t want to fight with you.”  _

_ He can hear his own shaky sigh exit his body. This is what he feared the most, what plagued his imaginative scenarios. The rejection, his disappointment, and Dream’s raw and dreadful honesty. Dream will always and forever be too good for him.  _

_ “Don’t hang up, George.” His voice is suddenly softer, more like the Dream he prefers. His mouse hovers over the button to disconnect with his finger rigid over the mouse. _

_ “I’m just..” his voice cracks, he hates this. George despises crying, especially in front of others. He is a private person, often even when it comes to his closest friends. “I’m just scared, I don’t know.” _

_ “I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry.”  _

_ George sniffles in effort to restrain his tears. _

_ Dream continues, “I don’t want you to be scared of me, or visiting me. I don’t really understand why you are, but I want you to be comfortable meeting me. You should be ready when you meet me and if you aren’t yet, that’s okay. Please just talk to me, though. It feels like you are  _ **_hiding_ ** _ something from me; I don’t like the way you are just avoiding it.”  _

_ “It’s just that it’s always been streaming  _ **_and_ ** _ my life, Minecraft  _ **_and_ ** _ my life, and you  _ **_and_ ** _ my life. I’m so scared that I won’t be what you expect me to be. Maybe I’ll be different around you in person or you won’t like me anymore.” It sounds as irrational as George expected, but it’s the truth. _

_ “I would never-- what? George, you know that it wouldn’t be like that. You could never disappoint me.”  _

_ He scoffs, “I’m not so sure about that, Dream.” _

_ “NO. George.” Dream sounds loud and despairing. His mood has been all over the place, bouncing between origins of sympathy, hurt, and frustration. “I need you to listen to me. You can never disappoint me, you don’t know how important you are to me. Don’t ever alienate yourself from me because you think somehow you are possibly disappointing,” He reiterates. _

_ The reassurance sparked a sudden, airy feeling to fill his abdomen. _

_ “Really?” _

_ “Yeah, George.” Dream says, “Of course.” _

_ A week later, they booked the ticket for a month out. George would fly to Florida and stay for at least a month. The two had grown closer through the memorable, private conflict. While unexpected, they had been able to share their feelings more openly instead of brushing over unspoken concerns and feelings.  _

_ George had been so, so excited for the trip. _

-=+=-

Ear-splitting and unbearable thunder cracks outside the vessel. George is shaking in his seat. He is now openly crying; unlike the restrained tears he had withheld from Dream a month ago. He has a greater advertence of the feeling of his body straining against his seatbelt.

What can he do?

What is there to do?

All he can do is regret absolutely everything. He regrets every harsh word he has directed at Dream and every silly secret he has told to the perpetually and indestructibly honest man. He wishes he had loved him harder-- told it to him more. 

He was mistaken when he had told Dream that he was separate from his life. 

_ “It’s just that it’s always been streaming  _ **_and_ ** _ my life, Minecraft  _ **_and_ ** _ my life, and you  _ **_and_ ** _ my life. I’m so scared that I won’t be what you expect me to be. Maybe I’ll be different around you in person or you won’t like me anymore.”  _

He was so wrong, just too stubborn and reluctant to share the devastatingly blatant truth. He had been scared that Dream was his life. He had been scared to unearth the largest, dominant anchor in his sea. 

The rumbling of the cabin persists, vibrating and rippling through George’s weak body. 

“I’m so sorry, Dream,” he sobs. 

His hands loosen from their fixed grip on the armrest. His future seems mighty fateful-- awfully cruel and undeserved. He had never pictured what his dying regrets would be but they were plain to him now.

His hands are like lead but shake harder than they ever have. Nevertheless, they are carried with the most purpose they ever have been in his life.

He types a compulsive text to Dream, it doesn’t matter if it sends. 

_ Dream, I love you so much. I’m going to die and I’m so sorry that I didn’t meet you sooner. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I fucking love you so much, I’m so so so sorry. I’m so scared.  _

He sends it, it miraculously delivers in a bright green bubble. The plane thrusts downward sharply. Subsequently, he cries harder and types another message.

_ The plane is going to crash and I can’t stop thinking about how many other flights I could have taken.  _

Delivered.

_ I love you _

Delivered.

_ I’m so fucking scared, Dream. I don’t want to die. _

Delivered.

The remorseless nuclear thunder reverberates through him. The flight is full of dismantled people and luggage. Flashing lights illuminate petrified faces. The plane continues to jerk upwards and downwards in turns.

His phone dings multiple times amidst the screams and harsh crashing noises. 

_ I love you so much George.  _

_ It’s going to be fine  _

_ It’s okay, just turbulence?? right?? _

_ George please you’re okay right??? _

_ George?  _

George ironically laughs. He thinks it’s the furthest from ‘okay’ he has ever been in his lifetime. 

_ No I'm not really okay, I don’t know what to do I’m so scared.  _ He sends. 

The passenger beside him, in the aisle seat, is sweating profusely. His face is as pale as a ghost and looks close to unconsciousness. He fumbles with his seatbelt and unlatches it in a panic-stricken state. Immediately, he falls to the ground and flies to the back of the plane as the airplane shakes violently. 

“Holy fucking shit.” George gapes at the sight and covers his mouth with a hand. 

_ Dream is calling…  _

He hears a woman screech from the rear end of the flight. Likely because of the passenger that had once been seated beside him. 

“Dream, Dream are you there?” George barely recognizes the voice as his own. 

“George?” Dream sounds almost as wrecked as George does. “What’s going on, it’s so  _ loud.  _ What the fuck, George?” 

“I don’t know, there’s a really bad storm,” George pauses to let a cry escape his throat. “I’m going to die, Dream. I don’t want to die.” His words are a plea for safety that he knows only God can grant him. 

“George you need to calm down, I’m here, It’s okay.” 

Lighting cracks again, louder than before. It sends tearing screams throughout the plane. 

George whimpers and presses his head into the back of the seat as firmly as possible. 

“George I love you so much.” 

“I love- I love you too, D-Dream.” 

“Fuck.” Dream’s voice cracks. 

They both don’t know what to say to one another, they are both in tears. Neither realized how much they had to lose until now. 

The plane shudders harder now, the sight of the dark sky outside of the small, round window combined with the sudden movements rises bile from George’s stomach. He pukes all over the floor and his bag below his feet. The thick acid burns his throat.

“Dream, tell my mom I love her so much. And Sapnap and everyone.” He wipes his mouth with his sleeve. 

“No, George. You can’t die!” Dream is begging George for mercy he has no control over. 

“I don’t want to.” His voice is meek underneath the overlaying shouts among the plane. “Can you please talk to me, I’m so scared, your voice is calming to me sometimes.” His words are rushed and frantic.

Typically, this admittance would have been embarrassing but now, it doesn’t matter. 

“Um, okay, so.” Dream draws in a deep breath, “This morning I woke up and Patches was curled up in my desk chair. It was really cute and I kept thinking about how pets mimic their owners in little ways.” 

George laughs slightly, “That is cute, Dream.” 

“ _ You _ are really cute. I never told you that.”

He has the audacity to blush amidst a roaring, deadly plane crash. “Thank- thank you.” 

“George, I’m so sorry.  _ I  _ made you come. I shouldn’t have made you visit me. You can’t die, please don’t fucking die.” 

George’s heart sinks to his stomach. 

“No, It’s not- it’s not your fault. Don’t be- be mad at- at yourself.” The plane is shaking harder and faster.

George cries out as a piece of luggage falls from the overhead compartment across the isle and hits his shoulder. It creates an intense crushing pain on his left shoulder. His body is screaming and thrashes against the wall of the plane to move further away. 

“Dream!!” His voice is raw and rattles the inside of his own head. Panicked adrenaline causes him to ignore the sticky blood collecting on his shoulder. 

“George! What’s happening? George?” Dream shrieks through the phone.

George hisses through his teeth. “A fucking plane crash, _I’m in a_ _plane crash_.” His cries break up the syllables of ‘I’m in a plane crash’ in breathy yelps. “Oh my God, oh my God.” 

George’s phone clatters to the ground and it disappears from his reach almost immediately. He feels limp and totally succumbs to the movements of the plane. 

He slams forward, his head colliding with the seat in front of him. The surroundings seem… slower. The noise in his head shifts and opens a newfound presence of release. George feels his heart beating  _ everywhere _ . He can feel the gashes on his head and arm, the thick cold sweat beading over the surface of his skin, but it doesn’t matter. How can it matter what happens now? His hands weakly brush over the armrests, he doesn’t have the strength to grip them any longer. His neck flops to the side, the last thing George hears is another crack of muffled, incessant thunder and Dream’s words ringing in his head.

_ “No, George. You can’t die!” _

-=+=-

George hears small distant voices that are all different; some are scared and others are gentle. His body maintains an endless, rhythmic ache. There are hotspots within the fog. A prick of pain on the inner forearm, sticky plastic covering his mouth and nose, and the pain on his shoulder is constantly deep and nagging. He fades in and out of this state of being for a badly ruinous and fragmentary time.

He hears hurried footsteps rush towards him. 

“Nice to meet you, Clay.” The voice is loud and sonorous, it hurts.

“Oh my God, is he okay?” George recognizes this voice, it’s Dream.

“Yes, in time he is expected to make a full recovery, but that doesn’t mean his injuries were not severe. He has dislocated the acromioclavicular joint of his shoulder, he has a mild traumatic brain injury, and his body was put under a great deal of physical and emotional stress. He will likely be in a significant amount of pain when he wakes.” 

That sounds like a joke. Significant pain is the understatement of the year.

He hears a weak, guttural moan flow from his throat, rooted out of frustration and helplessness. George wants to open his eyes, badly. The world feels heavy and painfully empty; it’s only filled with intensely maddening fear. 

“Was- was that him?” George feels eyes penetrating his skin. Their eyes are burning him.

“Yes-” the doctor’s hands are suddenly all over him. They itch and drive him crazy, he can’t do anything to stop them. There is a cool pang on his chest, then his wrist, and then his neck. “-He is coming around, I’m going to call a nurse over.” 

The hands are on his face, pulling his eyes open and immediately, his vision fills with a bright light and the face of a rather irritating man with huge eyes and prickly gray hair. The light moves from eye-to-eye. 

George pitifully whimpers from all of the new senses and feelings. 

“You’re okay, you are safe. Please look at my finger, I need to check the dilation of your eyes.” The voice is firm yet sympathetic.

George’s face tenses up but he does as he was asked to. More people enter the room and check minor functions of his body. He feels all of their hands and all of their words. None of it makes sense.

“Dream. I-” George coughs. “-I, where’s-” 

“George, I’m here. You’re okay,” he replies. 

George doesn’t know where the voice came from or whose face it belongs to, but it makes his body relax a little. The awful, continuous beep of a monitor slows down slightly. A gentle and welcome hand rubs a circle on his good shoulder. 

Everything will be okay. George’s dying regrets were no longer actually dying hundreds of meters above the ocean. While he was glad he was able to express his feelings to Dream, he was even more fond of the blissful relief that came from knowing he could speak his incontestable truth. 

George feels tears build at the outside corners of his eyes and slide down the sides of his head. “I love you, Dream.”

“I love you too,” Dream sounds absolutely enraptured by the mere relief of hearing his voice. George finds just as much solace in the simple words. “I’m so lucky that the pilot pulled through," he continues.

George murmurs in unspoken agreement and falls back asleep, more peacefully than before with the knowledge Dream is by his bedside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment! Let me know what you think :)   
> <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hope you enjoyed!   
> Check out my other work in progress "Devil's Advocate" if you haven't!  
> Alsooo, I just made a twitter! I have no clue how it works yet but if you want to chat or send me something feel free to! I love talking to new ppl :)  
> Here's my twitter:  
> http://twitter.com/cashflochlo


End file.
